


Duty to Discover

by sybarite1



Category: due South
Genre: Bisexual Character, Case Fic, Coming Out, First Time, Gay Bashing, Homophobia, M/M, Queer Themes, Tropes, Undercover As Gay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-12
Updated: 2018-12-12
Packaged: 2019-09-16 15:51:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16956942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sybarite1/pseuds/sybarite1
Summary: Ray is going undercover as easy.  Also?  Gay.





	Duty to Discover

**Author's Note:**

  * For [JackyMedan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JackyMedan/gifts).



> Please be aware that while the violence is canon-typical and largely off-screen, it does center around a gay bashing case. Thanks to [redacted] for the helpful beta. This fic is part of the due South Seekrit Santa 2018 and I hope its recipient has a happy holiday :)

 

When Lieutenant Welsh called them into his office and closed the door, Fraser assumed there would be news of Ray Vecchio. Instead, the Lieutenant began briefing them on a new case, like he would any other, except the door was still closed and Ray had a peculiar stillness about him. The case, Welsh said, involved two incidents of assault outside a local club. One of the assaults had resulted in a coma.  Fraser didn’t recognise the name of the club or the names of the victims, there was nothing to suggest why their discussion had such an air of furtiveness around it, but he reserved his questions for the car, once he, Diefenbaker and Ray had left to speak to the first victim.

“Ray.”

“Yeah Frase?”

“Is there anything about this case I should know?”

“Picked up on that, did ya?”  They were stopped at an intersection.  Ray rolled his shoulders, like he was warming up for a bout, and tapped his fingers against the steering wheel.  He waited until the car was moving again before he spoke.

“It’s a queer case.”

“On the contrary Ray, it seems quite straightforward.”

Ray exhaled on what was almost, but not quite, a laugh.  He was nervous, Fraser realised. 

“It’s a _gay_ case, Fraser.”

“Ah.”

“Yeah, ‘ah.’  Is that all you gotta say?  ‘Ah?’  What’s that even mean?”  He glanced away from the road to look quickly at Fraser.

“Just that I understand now what you meant by ‘queer,’ Ray.  Although…”

“Yeah, although what?”

“I must confess I don’t understand why our briefing was so… discreet.”

Ray huffed a laugh that got all the way out of him this time.  “You mean hush hush?  Ah that’s just because Welsh is a nice guy.  Careful like.  Doesn’t want the whole world to know the details of the case he’s giving us.”

“The other police officers would have a problem with the case?”

“The other police officers would have a problem with who was assigned the case.”

Fraser frowned.  He was unaccustomed to being slow on the uptake but there was definitely something he was still missing.  Ray caught his expression and tried again.

“You remember a few months ago when there was that flare up with the Mickey Cobras gang?”

“Yes Ray, though I fail to see-”

“Who’d Welsh send?”

“Detectives Huey and Dewey but I-”

“And that domestic violence case that came in.  Who took the lead?”

“Elaine.  That would be Officer Besbriss but Ray-”

“There’s a pattern here Frase.  You get an African American gang fight, you try to send at least one black cop out.  You get a battered wife come in, you assign a woman cop.  You see what I’m saying?”

Fraser fell quiet.  He was at a loss for words, unusual in itself, but worse was that every second that he didn’t say anything Ray tensed up more and more, until his palms creaked against the steering wheel. 

“I didn’t know, Ray.” Fraser began, more as a way to force himself to say something, anything, into the heavy silence.  Ray slowed down, put the car in park.  It seemed they’d arrived at their first stop.

“Well now you know.”  He didn’t seem happy about it and he got out of the car before Fraser could say anything else.

 

* * *

 

Fraser had never been hit on by someone with two black eyes before.

Jason Carver was slight, with dark skin and dark eyes that shone out from the dull bruises around them.  He had let them all into his apartment and made them coffee while talking about the incident.  His hands still shook slightly as he stirred and Fraser felt a helpless anger at watching such a young man scared, still, and in his own home at that.

After the coffee he seemed to distract himself with flirting with Fraser and Ray almost indiscriminately and more by force of habit than out of any real intent.  Fraser took it in stride and even Ray, who was not always the most patient with witnesses, seemed to err on the side of kindness.  Diefenbaker lay on Jason’s feet with a casual air but Fraser knew he was trying in his own way to be of comfort.

They left with a vague description; white, well built, dark hair, 25 to 35 years old.  He was not someone who had interacted with him in the club.  Jason agreed to come in and sit with a department sketch artist and that, as it seemed, was that.

 

* * *

 

The next victim, Aiden Mulvaney, was in a coma from head trauma.  His file listed no next of kin so they were hoping to find out at the hospital if he’d had any visitors.  Ray was quiet on the drive over to the hospital and Fraser struggled with what he could say that could possibly sound understanding without getting Ray’s back up.  They parked at Northwestern Memorial and Dief settled into a wait in the car with barely a complaint.  He didn’t like that hospitals excluded him and usually had strong words about it.  It seemed the heavy mood had affected him too.

In the hospital, Aiden Mulvaney’s pale face was a tapestry of ugly colours.  He was a fair bit older than Jason Carver, maybe even older than Ray and Fraser themselves.  Fraser was relieved to see that despite what his file had said, he was not alone.  A man and a woman stood talking quietly beside his unconscious form.

They looked up warily when Ray and Fraser came in and seemed distrustful of their presence.

Ray was perhaps the most professional Fraser had ever seen him, as he introduced them both and their roles on the case.  But Fraser supposed he shouldn’t be surprised.  Ray would always do what was necessary to help, especially when he was assisting the disenfranchised.  In Chicago it seemed that some communities seldom saw respectful treatment from the law, and today it appeared Ray would hold onto his rage to be able to give it to them.  More surprising was how angry Fraser was; hate crimes were uncommon where he was from.  Perhaps people weren’t different enough, perhaps it was that they all had to rely on one another at some point.  In any case, in the small communities out in the territories everyone had a name, a personality, a history with at least some fond memories attached.  It probably made it harder to look at a person and reduce them to the one thing you hated.

Fraser was… Fraser was struggling to be fully present.  When he forced himself to tune back in, it seemed that Ray had made some in-roads with Aiden’s visitors.  They were friends, it sounded like.  Or ‘queer family,’ as the woman, Catalina, put it.  One of them, the man, Noah, had been with Aiden the night he was beaten.  Frustratingly he couldn’t give them a description of a possible assailant, saying that Aiden had flirted with and gone off with a couple of guys that night, but he hadn’t really been paying attention to his friend.  Ray took notes and shared the station’s details before leaving.  He swept out of the room ahead of Fraser, so he tipped his hat and thanked Catalina and Noah almost on autopilot.  He hurried to follow. 

Ray had made it down the corridor and was pacing in tight, tense turns in front of the elevator bank.  They were only three floors up and Ray always seemed to do better when he had room to move, so Fraser propped open the stairwell door and waved Ray into it. 

“Son of a bitch!” said Ray, before the door had fully swung shut behind them.

“Indeed Ray,”

“Wait’ll I get my hands on this creep, Frase, it’s gonna put a whole new spin on queer bashing!”

Before Fraser could respond, Ray’s eyes narrowed.  “You thinking what I’m thinking?”

“Seldom, Ray,” Fraser said, which at least won him a laugh.

“This jerkoff isn’t waiting outside and jumping just anyone.  He scopes them out first in the club, gotta be.  We got a pattern here Fraser.  Different races, different ages, but one thing in common.”

Ray looked at Fraser expectantly, but Fraser was going to have to let the duet down.

“I’m afraid I wasn’t giving the interview my full attention.”

Ray looked at Fraser curiously, it’s possible he was so focused on reining in his temper that he failed to notice how quiet Fraser had been.  Whatever he had missed in Aiden’s hospital room, he didn’t seem to be missing it now.

“You okay there, buddy?”

Fraser began to nod but stopped himself.  This was Ray, after all.  Not only could he read Fraser well, there was also no point in keeping things from such a good friend.

“I must confess I found myself quite angry too, Ray.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes.  What happened to that young man… the motive isn’t robbery or jealousy.  It’s hate.”

“It’s messed up, huh?”  For all that Ray was a talker, he was always very good at knowing when to give Fraser room to think aloud.

“This man we’re after, he hates you Ray, and he doesn’t even _know_ you.”

“I mean, I can give him some reasons,” said Ray, gamely, but Fraser didn’t laugh.  Instead he looked down the drop of the stairwell and said, quietly,

“He hates me, too.”

There’s a beat of silence before Ray said, “A hospital stairwell and a parked car.  _Damnit Fraser._   You know some people get parties?”

“Do you _like_ parties, Ray?” Fraser found himself able to look at Ray again.  Ray’s lips twitched in an aborted smile.

“Nah, but it’s the _principle_ , Fraser.”  He started back down the stairs, smiling.

“Maybe Dief will throw us a party.”  Fraser found he was smiling too.

Back at the car, Diefenbaker was sound asleep in the back seat.  Ray climbed into the car and closed the car door hard enough that the vibrations woke the wolf.

“We’re here and we’re queer, Dief buddy,” Ray said, in greeting.  An ear twitched but Dief remained unmoved.  He looked balefully from Ray to Fraser before going back to sleep.

“In retrospect, Ray, we may have been a bit obvious.”

“That right?” Ray shot Fraser a brand new look that could only be described as charged.  Fraser had been so caught up in the high emotions of the case he had failed to consider the other implications of 1) Ray coming out, 2) Fraser coming out and 3) Ray being an unabashed flirt.

Oh dear.

 

* * *

 

Back at the station, Lieutenant Welsh pulled them in to ask if they had a positive ID or some likely leads.  Upon hearing that they hadn’t he told Ray that they had a choice, either he could post some uniformed officers outside the club that night, which wouldn’t be especially welcome, or Ray and Fraser could go in undercover.

“Undercover while undercover,” said Ray, with apparent relish, as they were leaving Welsh’s office.  He seemed amused, but Fraser was less certain.  The club had found a place for Fraser behind the bar, where he was to wear a trainee badge and mostly hand out beers.  He had learnt to mix a few cocktails at consular events but was relieved to have the badge to absolve him from doing much apart from being Ray’s back-up.

Ray laughed when Fraser told him this and promised that Fraser would be plenty busy.

“Something tells me a lot more guys are gonna feel thirsty for beer tonight, Frase.”

Fraser declined to comment.

 

* * *

 

That evening, after Ray dropped them off at the consulate, Fraser took some time to shower, get dressed and try to internalise the rollercoaster of a day they’d had.  Certainly nothing had exploded or caught on fire, but emotionally he found himself rather thinly stretched. 

When Ray arrived he was wearing a white t-shirt with rolled up sleeves.  It was tighter than anything Fraser had seen him in before and that alone was intriguing.  His hair also seemed a bit more vertical but it could be hard to tell with Ray.  Fraser was half expecting some comment on his own dress; jeans and black t-shirt, his leather jacket, nothing remarkable, but instead Ray’s focus was elsewhere entirely.

“I was gonna tell you, but then you distracted me with the whole thing in the stairwell.” He began.  “There’s a pattern.  We forgot about the pattern!”

“To be fair, Ray, I still don’t know anything about the pattern.”

“Right, right.  What did Noah say about Aiden?”

Fraser just looked at Ray.

“Oh yeah, you checked out for that one.  Well, he said that Aiden went off with a couple guys.  Jason said the same thing.  He hooked up with more than one guy.  _And_ he was a flirt, don’t tell me you didn’t notice that neither.”

“Different races, different ages but… multiple partners?  Or perhaps perceived promiscuity as the trigger?”

“I think the word you’re looking for is _easy_ , Frase.”

“Really Ray, I hardly think-”

“Relax, no judgement here.  I got no problem going undercover as easy.”

Ray watched Fraser closely, apparently just so he could see the exact moment the full implications of his words hit home.

“So you’re going flirt, and I’m… going to watch you flirt?”

“Oh Frase, I’m gonna have to do a lot more than just flirt.”

Ray’s grin was wild as he put the car in drive.

 

* * *

 

As it was with a lot surveillance work, there was a fair amount of hurry up and wait.  For example, Ray dropped Fraser off at the club as it was opening, nowhere near its busiest hours or the timeframes of the two assaults.  Ray drove off to have coffee and wait somewhere nearby; it wouldn’t do for them to arrive together just in case their perpetrator was early too.

The staff had been briefed well and made no comments as to the nature of Fraser’s investigative role there.  Well, the other bartender, Ethan, had whistled and said “I can’t believe you’re a c- _Canadian_ ,” so that was a lucky save.  Nonetheless Fraser largely refrained from extolling the virtues of Canada during his crash course in working the register and before he knew it, Ethan was pinning a trainee badge to Fraser’s chest with a wink and a lingering pat.

Fraser had ascertained that the bouncers made sweeps of the bathroom, less aimed at curtailing sexual activity and more about targeting lingering drug dealers – they’d had an overdose at the club the year before that kept them all vigilant.  There was no backroom to the club either, only a few recessed spots alongside the dance floor; dark enough that most activity remained in shadow.  Their perpetrator should be in the club proper until he followed someone out.  This, at least, eased Fraser’s mind; the prospect of Ray disappearing into another room without backup had been a worry since they left the consulate.  Ray could handle himself, but as Aiden Mulvaney was still hospitalised Fraser saw no harm in being prudent.

As time passed the music got a little louder and the crowd got a little thicker.  Fraser served mostly beers, collected a generous amount of tips, and kept a weather eye out for Ray without pointedly staring at the door like he wanted to.  The patrons were friendly and flirty but Fraser was used to Francesca and so already a deft hand at deflecting attention.  In truth he was absorbed not just with the potential danger to patrons that night, but also with the possibility of shifting dynamics between him and Ray.

Fraser had long admired Ray; there was so much to admire.  He was quick on his feet, quick with a joke and a grin, honest even when it hurt him, braver even than the job required and just so _feeling_ all the time.  Fraser watched Ray like he would a live wire arcing off the ground; like something powerful and potentially dangerous.  More than just a great partner and a wonderful friend, Ray was also, to Fraser’s eyes, incredibly beautiful.  Every time Ray hit on a woman in Fraser’s presence Fraser held his breath, wondering if this time would be the time that someone else would look at Ray and _see_ him, really see him; electric and golden and gorgeous.  He’d spent a lot of time wishing for Ray’s sake that they would and wishing for his own sake that they wouldn’t.  Fraser wouldn’t wish loneliness on any of his friends, but his feelings for Ray had long been more than friendly.  It was never an issue before because he had never thought of Ray as available, but today had changed things for him and he had to consider that perhaps it had changed things for Ray, too.  Fraser was hardly going to assume that Ray would be interested in him, but a small spark of hope wouldn’t let him discount the idea completely.  After all, they were already good friends and they had a certain chemistry between them and Ray was often-

“Bud Light would ya?”

It was Ray, who’d somehow snuck up on him.  Not a good sign for Fraser’s observational skills but perhaps for the best in their charade of being strangers.  Especially tonight, when Fraser felt inclined to give Ray all his attention.  Ray took the bottle with a grin, telling him to keep the change before just… disengaging from Fraser entirely, half turning in his seat to look at the dance floor. 

It was jarring for Fraser, and yet still a little gratifying to watch Ray work despite being so easily ignored.  Fraser went back to serving drinks, watching Ray in his periphery where he sat drinking and tapping out a rhythm against the bar. 

The next time Fraser looked at Ray, he was hemmed in by a man standing in front of him; broad shouldered, with pale skin and dark hair.  Everything about Ray’s body language said _interested_ and Fraser felt a frisson go through him at the prospect of Ray pulling this man who could be him into a dark corner somewhere.  But soon enough the man moved off, and Ray flagged Fraser down for another drink.  He ordered a vodka and Coke, but Fraser had a special spirit bottle just for Ray, so all he served him was a slightly watered-down Coke.

When he went to take the money from Ray, Ray held onto to it, pulling Fraser close to him.  His ear brushed Fraser’s mouth; his hand held his drink glass up so that no one could read his lips. _He must look like he’s hitting on me_ , thought Fraser, and flashed hot at the idea.

“Relax Frase,” said Ray, “You’re the only tall, dark and handsome I’m going home with tonight.  Remember what Jason said.”

Fraser smiled and took the money, turning over the implication of Ray’s words. 

  * Jason Carver had said his attacker was not one of the people he had made out with at the club that night
  * Jason had said his attacker was a well-built white male with dark hair
  * Ray would not want to run the risk of making out with a violent offender
  * ~~Ray was going home with Fraser?~~



That didn’t mean that Ray wouldn’t make out with anyone, Fraser understood, he’d just avoid men who might be this month’s flavour of tall, dark and homophobic.  And so, when a handsome African American man took the bar stool next to Ray and leaned in with a smile, Fraser tried hard not to stare.  He didn’t know what this was.  He’d never relished the thought of Ray with someone else and he’d certainly leaned toward being more private than voyeuristic himself, but something about the set up tonight had him on the edge of arousal.  Perhaps it was the notion that they both knew Fraser would be watching.  Perhaps it was the new knowledge that Ray was queer, that Fraser was too, that this could be them.  Perhaps it was that Ray had seemed enthusiastic about the role he was cast in, almost as though he wanted to show off for Fraser.  Perhaps it was the very simple fact that Fraser found Ray captivating in everything he did, and this would be no different.

Whatever it was, Fraser found himself in a position he’d never thought he’d be in, eager to see the object of his affections in the clutch of another’s embrace.  When Ray nodded and stood, head cocked, little smirk on his lips, all his attention on the man he’d been talking to, Fraser tried hard not to stare.  They made their way not to a shadowy corner, but onto the crowded dance floor, where they pressed their chests flush against one another and swayed to the beat.  Ray could hold a rhythm and watching him move was always a pleasure.  His dance partner seemed pleased too, pulling Ray in closer by his belt loops and kissing him hard under the pulsing lights.  Ray just… Ray just _went_ for it, easy as anything, mouth open and hips grinding, everything about him a picture Fraser wanted to keep.  It was an exquisite torture, made worse when Fraser had to stop watching to serve someone a Heineken.

Serving one beer turned into serving three and when Fraser looked up next, Ray was back at the bar, his eyes bright and his colour up.  He winked at Fraser when Fraser caught his eye and Fraser found himself flushing too; a reaction he’d thought he’d schooled himself out of when it came to Ray.  This time Ray bit his lip before deciding that he wanted another “vodka” and Coke.  His gaze followed Fraser as he made his drink and it felt like a solid thing; heavy, _hot_.  It seemed the night’s situation didn’t just appeal to Fraser.  Fraser watched Ray drink thirstily before urgently relocating his gaze to the other end of the bar.  Ethan sidled up to him and muttered “ _Intense_ , man.  How’d you two get any work done?”  Fraser was grateful that he didn’t wait for an answer because he was uncertain himself.  _We lived under a veil of ignorance,_ he thought, vaguely hysterical, _now that it’s gone God only knows how I’m going to function normally_.  An image flashed in his mind; _him and Ray in the car together as they so often were.  This time around Fraser reached out and put his hand high on Ray’s thigh.  Ray sent a wolfish grin his way in response and_ oh dear he had to focus.  Focus Fraser. 

Fraser thought grimly of Jason’s shaking hands and remembered his purpose.

Ray whiled away the time, dancing and flirting for the better part of an hour.  He let another man, this time blond and slightly shorter than him, lead him into an alcove.  It was mostly too dark to make them out, except for the rare intervals of strobe lights on the dance floor.  They would illuminate all the recessed, shadowy spots for a second or two, leaving an after-image of wandering hands and urgent kisses.  Fraser was sure of the height difference between Ray and the new man because he could see Ray’s face over the other man’s shoulder where he pressed Ray back against the wall.  In the flickering strobe Fraser would catch the man’s mouth against Ray’s stubble or his throat; Ray’s hands curled around his biceps; Ray’s eyes staring right at Fraser in the stolen moment the club lights would give them.  He was intoxicating to watch.

The music changed to a slow, simmering beat and with it, the strobe lights disappeared, leaving the space dark and atmospheric.  Fraser served a few drinks while shooting glances at the darkness he knew hid Ray, utterly failing to stop himself from imagining what Ray and the man were doing in the shadows.

Eventually Ray emerged, alluringly rumpled and headed for the bathroom with a loose gait that screamed satisfaction. More than one head turned to track him.  That was the signal; they had agreed that Ray would go to the bathroom before he left the club, so that Fraser knew when to follow him out.  Fraser checked the time and indeed they were already inside the timeframe when the previous attacks had occurred.  Ray headed out the club door, taking his time.  Fraser knew he would be heading for the side street where the other attacks had occurred and he itched to follow him. But first he would have to give their assailant the chance to follow Ray out, so he served his last drink and then called Ethan over to tell him he was leaving.  He pressed a generous wad of bills into Ethan’s hands too; they were Fraser’s tips for the night. 

“Oh no, you _earned_ these.”

Fraser leaned in to whisper, “I can’t accept money while on the job.  Either you take it or I give it to someone else.  It’s entirely your choice.”

Ethan took the money and kissed him on the cheek.  “You’re a real sweetheart, you know that?  He’s lucky to have you.”

_He doesn’t have me yet_ , thought Fraser.  But of course that was all wrong.  Ray had claimed Fraser a long time ago, whether he knew it or not. 

Fraser shrugged on his jacket and hurried outside, having given Ray as much time as he could bear, acutely aware that he was Ray’s only back-up tonight, and Ray was without his firearm.  When Fraser turned into the side street he was just in time to see a man emerge from the shadows to rush Ray, but Ray’s casual stroll had been deceptive and he easily sidestepped the attack.  The man broke his charge against the wall of the club.  He gathered himself for another attempt and Fraser started to run.  Ray, meanwhile, rounded on his attacker.

“Oh, I’ve been waiting all night for _you_ , scumbag,” Ray’s grin was feral and his fists were raised.  The man made the mistake of trying to tackle him anyway, getting nothing more than a swift punch in the face before Fraser was behind him, knocking him off his feet.  He had Ray’s cuffs in his jacket pocket and he got them out while he held the struggling man down with his other hand and a knee planted in his lower back.

“ _Please_ resist arrest so I can kick ya in the head,” suggested Ray, bouncing on the balls of his feet, but the fight had already gone out of their assailant and even Fraser felt vaguely cheated by the lack of challenge.  He did not consider himself a violent man but clearly deep down he had been hoping for the chance at some retribution.  He supposed he should not be surprised that the perpetrator turned out to be a feckless coward.  The cuffs clicked shut around his thick wrists and Ray seemed to lose a little of his manic energy.  The man stayed down, cheek pressed to the sidewalk, eyes distant. 

“You have the right to remain silent,” began Ray, and Fraser got up to stand next to him, both of them watching the man for any flicker of emotion or movement.

 

* * *

 

Despite the lateness of the hour, Welsh was at the station when they brought the offender in.  Fraser suspected it wouldn’t take much to get a full confession from him, and Ray was particularly good at interrogations himself but oddly he never offered to try. 

Fraser followed Ray out of the station, yet again with an inkling that he was missing something.  Ray took one look at him and got it.  He stopped when they were at the car in the deserted police parking lot and looked at Fraser over the roof of the Riviera.

“That guy’s gonna sing, Frase.  He’s gonna say some things about me when he does.  Knowing Welsh, a lot of those things?  Won’t make it into the final statement.  He’s doing it this way so I don’t gotta make the choice.”

“I understand, Ray.  Lieutenant Welsh is keeping your hands clean and your conscience clear.”

“Yeah, yeah that’s it.”

Fraser cared a lot about proper protocol, but he cared more about Ray’s safety.  “Then he’s a good commanding officer, Ray,” Fraser said plainly.

Ray seemed relieved.  He lightly thumped the roof of the car.  “Get in, will ya?  Let’s go home.”

 

* * *

 

If the fight had left their attacker, the flirt seemed to have abandoned Ray.  He pulled up at the consulate and pressed his knuckles to his tired eyes.  It was after 3AM.

“It’s been a crazy day, Fraser.”

“We do seem to collect them, Ray.”

Ray laughed at that.  “Not usually so personal though.”

“No,” conceded Fraser, remembering taking stock of his roiling emotions that evening before the club.

“You still wanna do this?” asked Ray, bravely putting into words where their evening had been headed, running the risk of rejection so that Fraser wouldn’t have to.

“Very much so, Ray,” offered Fraser, “I am also certain I’ll want to tomorrow, or the day after that.”

Ray grinned, “How about tomorrow _and_ the day after that?”

“Even better,” said Fraser, warmly.

“Sounds like a plan.  Sounds like a _good_ plan,” said Ray.  “Want something to remember me by?”  His gaze dropped down to Fraser’s mouth before looking him in the eyes again.  The spark was still there, however care worn they may be.

“I hardly think I’ll forget you, Ray.”

“You always gonna be this difficult to flirt with?” asked Ray, leaning in slowly, giving Fraser plenty of time to back out.  Fraser looked at the fan of Ray’s eyelashes, his smiling mouth and much-loved face.

“Never for you, Ray,” Fraser murmured, and closed the distance himself.

 

* * *

  

**Coda**

An unspecified amount of time later: _Christmas morning, in bed_

 

“Merry Christmas, Ray.  I hope you don’t mind that one of your presents is somewhat used.” He reached into the bedside table drawer for a small, red box with a ribbon bow stuck on it.

Ray grinned at him before sliding off the box lid.  He looked at the contents with a small frown, shooting Fraser a curious glance.

“Ben… are these… my cuffs?”

“Indeed Ray,” said Fraser, tipping them out of the box, picking up the cool metal and holding them up in front of Ray’s face.  “Now, how does it go?  Ah, yes.  You have the right to remain silent.”

Ray’s eyes widened.  He licked his lips, looking from Fraser to the cuffs and back.  He gave Fraser a clear, careful nod and offered up his wrists.  The handcuffs went on with a click and Ray exhaled in a rush.  Already he was beginning to flush.  He leaned towards Fraser for a kiss but Fraser leaned away.

“No distractions,” said Fraser, shaking his head.  “Be good, and you can have a kiss afterward.”

Ray smiled. “I’m always good,” he promised, already breaking the rules by speaking.

“You’re a brat, Ray,” corrected Fraser.  He found he didn’t mind.

 

Fin.

  


End file.
